


don't you ever tame your demons (but always keep 'em on a leash)

by aletterinthenameofsanity



Series: even if it costs my life (I won't stop loving you) [4]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Canon Related, Character Study, Ernesto De La Cruz is a terrifying villain, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memory Loss, Murder, Pre-Canon, Unreliable Narrator, because he just doesn't care about anyone save himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 09:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aletterinthenameofsanity/pseuds/aletterinthenameofsanity
Summary: Ernesto De la Cruz forgets about Héctor.He stops thinking of Héctor, about a bitter familia in Santa Cecilia, as his thoughts become solely occupied by the adoring crowds, by movie deals and novias and commercials.Ernesto is famous, now. What need does he have for his old life, a world he no longer lives in?-When people hear Ernesto's name, they don't think murderer. There is only one person who knows what he is, and that person has almost forgotten that the crime existed.Up until his final moments, Héctor thought of Ernesto as his friend. Héctor, that fool, never would have suspected foul play.(There was never any blood on Ernesto's hands- Héctor died with a few gasping breaths and a soft thump as his body hit the street. There was no wound, no blood-stained weapon, no descent into madness.Ernesto's hands are clean.After all, if no witness remembers the murder, who's to say there was one?)





	don't you ever tame your demons (but always keep 'em on a leash)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Arsonist's Lullabye" by Hozier.
> 
>  
> 
> Mi dios, villains are so much fun to write.

Ernesto De la Cruz forgets about Héctor.

-

In the years after Héctor's death, Ernesto sometimes felt what he might have classified as guilt. When he wrote letters to Imelda to cover up his tracks- _Héctor ran off with a_ puta, _he cheated on you, you're better off without him_ \- he felt something twinge inside of him. But then he thinks of what he will gain because of this, and he feels nothing toward Héctor.

Ernesto never puts Héctor's photo on an ofrenda. He never cries over his lost friend, never credits the writer of his songs.

If anyone ever found out about how he _really_ gained these songs, he would be done for. Years, decades of work- wasted. So he has to dismiss it. Cover it up. One man's life for millions of dollars and the happiness of hundreds of thousands.

 _Seize your moment_ , Ernesto tells his fans. _Do what's necessary to reach your dreams._

(Take _what's necessary,_ he never says, but always thinks.)

 

He stops thinking of Héctor, about a bitter _familia_ in Santa Cecilia, as his thoughts become solely occupied by the adoring crowds, by movie deals and _novias_ and commercials.

Ernesto is famous, now. What need does he have for his old life, a world he no longer lives in?

-

A bell falls on him, cutting his life short, and that _should_ be a bad thing, but it isn't. He finds even greater fame in death than he did in life. Here, he has riches beyond imagining.

In the Land of the Dead, he never goes looking for his childhood friend, for the _familia_ that took Héctor's last name but cast out every other part of him.

Ernesto thinks of the name Héctor Rivera once, in 1985, in the middle of a concert- he sees a golden tooth, a goatee, and a straw hat in the crowd at the Sunrise Spectacular, and a faint memory tugs at his mind. He dismisses it, though, and goes on belting out songs to the adoring crowd.

(Ernesto forgets Héctor, as the rest of the world did, but it is not out of hatred or resentment because of abandonment. No, it's because he just doesn't care. Héctor is better off left in the past, where he can't harm Ernesto's fame or career.)

* * *

When Miguel shows up, Ernesto thinks that the boy must be descended from a bastard of his. After all, he does recognize something in the features of the boy. His own, perhaps- this boy is his mirror in so many ways, after all.

No matter- the boy adores him, as every one should.

When a boy shows up, asking Ernesto what is like to be dead, the musician smiles and answers truthfully: that being Remembered is wonderful.

-

When people hear Ernesto's name, they don't think murderer. There is only one person who knows what he is, and that person has almost forgotten that the crime existed.

Up until his final moments, Héctor thought of Ernesto as his friend. Héctor, that fool, never would have suspected foul play.

(There was never any blood on Ernesto's hands- Héctor died with a few gasping breaths and a soft thump as his body hit the street. There was no wound, no blood-stained weapon, no descent into madness.

Ernesto's hands are clean.

After all, if no witness remembers the murder, who's to say there was one?)

-

Héctor shows up after the party is long over, as Ernesto is about to send Miguel back to the Land of the Living, and a single choice years ago comes back to Ernesto. He remembers a year spent travelling around Mexico, playing and singing with his _amigo mejor,_ until his friend got selfish. Until his friend went to turn home, to take his songs with him, and Ernesto couldn't have that.

He looks Héctor over and sees his brittle, yellowed bones. “You're being Forgotten,” he says, and though he knows his crime was a perfect one, he feels a sense of relief that the last evidence of his crime is disappearing. Once Héctor experiences the Final Death, the only person left who will know about Ernesto's crime will be himself.

(And Ernesto has shown himself how easy it is to forget about this man.)

-

In a world where memories determine happiness, where the number of _ofrendas_ your face is put on determines your wealth, Ernesto is King.

Héctor is nothing but the lowest of the low.

-

Then Miguel figures it out, and everything starts to slip away.

And still...Ernesto has had a century of covering up this particular crime. He knows how to dismiss this, to cover it up.

-

Ernesto is no devil, no _demonio_  who takes pleasure in the misery of others. Everything he did had a reason behind it. Those letters to Imelda, accusing her husband of adultery, threw her off his trail. Murdering Héctor kept the man's songs close, where Ernesto could share them with the world.

Getting rid of Miguel keep Héctor's murder close to Ernesto, too. What does it matter that the boy is his great-great-grandson? He only met the _niño_ today. A century of music, of fame, is worth far more than that.

-

A boot makes his skull spin, and he is confronted by a woman in a purple dress shaking her boot in his face. “That is for murdering the love of my life!” She shouts, and he is confused.

“Who?” he asks, because she can't be Imelda, because Imelda _hates_ Héctor, he made sure of it, and even if she did, Héctor is trapped in a cenote-

“She means me!” Héctor shouts, bursting around a corner, somehow _not gone._

And then the boot sends his skull spinning again with a well-aimed _smack_ , and Imelda shouts, “And _this_ is for trying to murder my grandson!”

“Your _grandson_?” Ernesto asks, incredulous, and Miguel runs in.

“She's talking about _me,_ ” he says, and Ernesto puts the pieces together. Why he recognized the kid- it wasn't because he shared the face of a _puta_ , but rather the bright eyes of Ernesto's old friend, the smile and nose of the woman Héctor had married.

\---

The world thought Ernesto the hero of the story, and he never corrected them.

After all, what else could he be? He was the charmer, the musician, the lover with such sweet words.

If he wasn't the hero, then who else could it possibly be?

\---

When the first tomato hits Ernesto's jacket, he remembers Héctor Rivera. He remembers jokes and songs, teasing words and goes of brotherhood. He remembers the decades he took from Héctor, the price of fame.

And he doesn't care.

All that matters to Ernesto is surviving this, coming back bigger and better than ever. One decision, a century ago, cannot destroy him now.

He _won't let it._


End file.
